Apples
by Operatic
Summary: If Raoul is my beloved, why can't I stop thinking of warped apples?EC, Raoul friendly, fluff


**Apples**

**Just a one shot that's been going through my mind for some time now. It was actually inspired by a great, great novel, The Bernstein Bears Talk to Strangers. (I think that's what it's called. It's a very good book) Anyways, you will find that this fic not only tells a moral, but also promotes healthy eating habits (remember, children- apples are any time foods!) I don't own POTO.**

**AN: Please, forget the mob. They aren't coming. This can only work without the mob, and if you want to read a story where poor Erik is trampled by a bunch of ballerinas, I suggest you do not read this. If you want to read a story that does not include the pesky mob, that instead includes apples and Christine's struggle to forget Erik, please, read on!**

Where was she? He knew she loved to wander, but this was ridiculous! What if she was lost somewhere, unable to call for him? The thought made his heart thud in fear, and he mopped the sweat from his forehead with the cuff of his shirt.

Looking back, he saw her father with his governess, speaking, not watching them. Christine could be anywhere! He wondered if he should tell her father, but he thought better of it. The poor man was getting sicker and sicker lately, and she was probably only playing one of her childish hiding games. Why worry him over nothing?

_Please, let it only be nothing…_

He walked through the sand, his expensive trousers getting dusty, something Philippe would surely scold him for. Finally, however, he heard her high voice in a silly song. He smiled to himself.

"You really shouldn't wander alone, Little Lotte," he told her, walking towards the curly haired little girl. She flashed him a cute smile.

"But I must find new additions to my collection!" she giggled, then continued skipping around. She had a large bag in her hand, he noticed.

"Collection?" He asked curiously, trying to peek inside the bag.

"I'm collecting things that are very pretty!" she giggled. Raoul smiled, as it was such a very typical thing for little girls to do. "Perhaps you would like to help me, Raoul?"

He grinned, and searched for something pretty. Digging in the sand, he retrieved a ring, likely lost by someone on the beach. He handed it to her, a proud smile on his face.

"Thank you. Raoul!" she cried. The tossed it into the bag. Then, to Raoul's surprise, she tossed in a handful of sand.

"Why did you do that!" He cried. She stared at him curiously. "Sand is not pretty!"

"Yes it is!" she argued back.

"How is sand pretty?"

"Like this!"

And she shoved the bag under his nose: water, seaweed, tree bark, leaves, and, of course, sand.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Raoul…even though it looks dirty to you, it can actually be quite pretty, you see?"

Raoul stared at the contents of the bag, trying to hide his disgust. These things were most certainly NOT, in any way, pretty to him. It was like the entire beach trying to be shoved into a bag, and the result was a disgusting mess. He didn't care for the smell, either…

"I don't…"

"Just because it may be warped on the outside. It doesn't mean the heart isn't beautiful! Like a warped apple that you can eat!"

"I don't like apples."

"It is only a metaphor, Raoul!"

The truth was, Raoul did not understand at all. One moment she spoke of sand, then she spoke of apples! But looking into the small girl's chocolate eyes, he knew that he couldn't tell her the truth…it would break her heart!

"I understand now," he said, though he was lying through his teeth. Christine brightened up.

"Good. Now you can help me more!" and she added an unfortunate pebble into her concoction. She was about to mix in some seaweed, when Christine's father called for her. Raoul sighed, watching the girl proudly show her father. If he was as disgusted as he, he hid it well.

_Maybe there's something I just don't understand…_

_--_

Raoul held Christine tightly to him in the carriage. It was over…it was all over! The phantom of the opera had let them go! He sighed in relief, and held her even tighter. Christine, he noticed, simply stared out the window, as though she didn't want to look at him.

"Christine?" he asked.

"Hmmm?" she turned to him, as though she had just awoken from a trance. He noticed, with a grimace, that she was wearing his dress, or rather, her wedding dress from him. It was tattered and wet, yet still very beautiful. As horrid as he was, he did have good taste. She fingered the snow white beads, although he wasn't sure whether it was absent-mindedly, or she knew perfectly well what she was doing.

"Raoul?" she asked, her brown eyes wide. Raoul shook his head, realizing that now it was him blanking out. He smiled at her, and pulled her even closer.

"My dear," he asked, pretending as if he'd been listening all along. "Should we begin creating plans for our wedding?"

--

_Wedding._

The word seemed to echo in Christine's mind, and she was shocked by how very…unexciting it was. All girls dream of their wedding day, she had! A glorious white festival, a handsome man…

A beautiful man…

Raoul was beautiful. Oh yes, he was, on the inside and on the out, like a good apple, or a piece of sweet chocolate.

So why was it that she couldn't tear her mind away from a rock, that when opened becomes an alarming array of colours? A warped apple, that inside has the heart of a good apple!

_Don't be silly, Christine. Apples don't have hearts._

But people do. Raoul did. She did. Erik…didn't matter anymore. Did he? She no longer should think of him, he no longer controlled her mind…did he? Of course not! Of course not. Raoul did. No! No one did! Did Erik? No!

"Maybe…" she thought for a moment. Who was she kidding? "Oh, you know I've dreamed of a summer wedding! Lets wait until then!"

Raoul looked at her, and she could see disappointment on his features. He sighed, however, and nodded his head. She sighed, then lay her head back into the seat.

_Click, clack, click, clack…_

The carriage jumped, no, danced across the cobblestone road. She smiled, she could hear the rhythm, she could hear the music…just as Erik could. And she immediately scolded herself for once again thinking of him.

Or perhaps it was good to think of him? Good to really think of what he did to her, then she would be too disgusted to think of him ever again. Yes! That's what she'd do!

So he'd lied to her, saying he was an angel.

_He tried to comfort you. Tried to make you forget your sadness and sing again._

And he'd succeeded. So she couldn't stay mad at him for that. But, he had killed Joseph Buquet.

_The man was a poor excuse for a human being and he deserved it._

She was ashamed of herself, but she couldn't feel pain. Ah! But then, he'd tried to kill Raoul!

_Because he adores you. Granted, he shouldn't have been trying to kill your friend. But he adores you._

She sat forward in her seat. Why was she trying to defend him? Why was it working? She stared at Raoul, who was staring at his fingers, and told herself to love him. Raoul, not Erik. And she told herself to forget him. Erik, not Raoul!

_Click clack, click clack, click…_

The carriage continued it's dance, and Christine wondered just how far away Raoul's home was. She looked out the window, seeing shops, people, everything. She looked further back, and she could see the opera house, though it was much, much smaller because it was so far. Well, not that far- a few miles. She turned her head, ashamed at herself for looking to her past, to Erik.

_You shouldn't think of him!_

And yet, she knew, by telling herself not to think of him, she would only be drawing more attention to the masked genius, giving her more reason to think of him, even if it was very subconsciously. She would still meet him in her dreams, speak to him, sing with him. Kiss him? Most likely, now that she had experienced his kiss. She drew her fingers to her soft lips, remembering the touch of his lips, the taste of his lips…

_Don't think of him!_

Trying to get her mind off of him, she stared out the window. The carriage danced, and danced, and danced, then passed by an old woman selling apples.

_Apples!_

Christine loved apples. Adored them, really. She loved apple pie, apple strudel, apple cider, but most of all, plain old apples. And suddenly, she had a very, very large craving for apples.

"Raoul," she asked, watching him look up expectantly. "Would it be alright if we stopped for some…apples?"

Raoul looked at her strangely, then smiled and signaled for the driver to stop. He was about to escort her out, when she stopped him.

"Raoul, it's alright, I can get my own apples."

Raoul seemed to deflate, then nodded his head and climbed up into the carriage.

Christine never expected going to buy some apples to be such a life altering journey. But every time a new step, a new thought seemed to enter her mind.

She took a step,

(_I love apples_)

And another,

(_But Raoul doesn't…)_

And another,

(_Erik does love apples…_)

And another,

(_I wonder if he likes apple pie…_)

And another,

(_DON'T THINK OF HIM!_)

Until she approached the old lady. She began to pick beautiful, delicious apples…there was, however, a warped one. She picked it up and inspected it. Usually, she would have ignored the ugly ones (_Like Erik_) and tried to find more perfect ones (_Like Raoul_).

_WHY did you just think that?_

Of course. She was going to think of Erik. Of course!

_Erik loves apples. And he did give you this wedding dress! It is quite lovely!_

Christine smiled to herself. That's it! She would share apples with Erik! She looked back to the carriage. And she would simply tell Raoul that she no longer wished to marry him, simply because he hated apples!

Yes. That's exactly what she'd do. _Right._

So what could she do? Marry Raoul? This certainly wasn't about apples, oh no, not about apples at all (although Erik and Christine did both love them)

Her eyes traveled to the warped apple. It was beautiful, in the sense that it wasn't it's fault that it was so warped. And sometimes warped things could be very beautiful…

Erik.

Erik was really beautiful, really! In a way that no one else saw, especially not he. And she had said some awful things to him. If she went back, would he be able to forgive her? Did she want to go back?

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

She had to tell the truth, she told herself.

…_Yes…_

Yes. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for ever causing him pain, she wanted to beg him to take her back, and why?

Because she loved him!

Of course, she loved him! She could never decide how she felt for her strange teacher, and now she recognized the feeling: love! So, what of Raoul, who waited patiently for his fiancé and her apples? Though he really didn't like apples…She paid for her apples, deciding to buy the warped and the perfect. She could see Raoul watching her. She began taking steps until she was almost at the carriage steps.

_You have to leave him now. You have to._

Oh, yes, Raoul, I forgot to mention, I am actually in love with my masked mentor, and I'll have to leave you now for him, but here's an apple for your trouble!

That's what she'd say. _Sure._

So what would she say?

Raoul was coming out of the carriage, going to lead her back. So what did she do? She had never felt quite like she did when she was around Erik, so different then with Raoul, so much…better.

Raoul took her arm, then noticed the warped apple.

"Oh, my dear, that isn't a very good looking apple! Here, lets get some more-"

"It's beautiful!" she cried out. Raoul stared at him.

"But it's-"

"Warped, I know. But just because it is so ugly, does not mean it cannot be eaten!"

Raoul stared at her. "It isn't beautiful in spite of it's flaws, Raoul, it's beautiful because of them!"

A memory made it's way into her head. She was on the beach collecting beautiful things…

"You remember, don't you?" she asked, looking up at his bewildered face. "On the beach, when we were children! I was collecting beautiful things, and you told me you understood! It's like this apple! And it's like Erik!"

She hadn't meant to mention Erik. But once his name had popped out of her mouth, there really was no going back. Raoul stared at her, a hurt expression in his eyes.

"Erik?"

"The phantom,"

"I know…"

"Raoul," she stared at him, trying to communicate her feelings. "I love my apple…it is warped, but I love it…will you let me have my apple, Raoul?"

He stared at her.

"What?"

"Will you let me have my flawed, yet beautiful, apple?" she asked again, hoping he understood. "Will you let me go back to my flawed…yet beautiful apple?"

Raoul gave her a look of understanding.

"Go," he whispered, letting go of her hand. She smiled at him, a sympathetic smile that she hoped would make him feel a small, tiny bit better.

"Thank you…" she whispered, kissing his perfect cheek. She pressed the perfect apple into his hand. She was about to leave, when Raoul spoke up.

"Christine," he whispered, his tear filled eyes concentrating on his perfect apple. "Am I…am I a beautiful apple?"

She could have chuckled at the pure silliness of the question. Instead, she smiled at him again.

"You are a beautiful apple, on both the outside and the in."

She was about to leave when she stopped. She went and bought a few more apples.

Erik did so love apples, and so did she…

Moments later, she was sitting in a carriage, tossing her warped apple from hand to hand. It had a few bumps on it's red skin, which she touched lovingly. The carriage slowly pulled up to The Opera Populaire, where the fire was out and the people had evacuated. Fortunately, she was able to slip into the building quickly, as she did not know whether any policemen were watching her.

Thankfully, thankfully, her room had not been damaged at all. She held the apples in her hands.

"Erik?" she called out. She felt Erik's presence immediately.

"Christine…" his beautiful voice seemed to sob the words. "What are you doing here?"

She sighed.

"I've come to tell you a story, but you must let me come down to you or you won't get to hear it!"

Erik was silent.

"You…want to come down?"

"Yes, Erik. Please?"

Erik immediately stepped through the mirror. He reached for her hand, but in it's place, she put an apple.

"Apples?" he asked slowly. He wore his mask again, she noticed.

"Yes, Erik. Apples."

He gave her a strange look.

"Apples."

"Yes, Erik! Apples!"

"Well, what about them?" he asked, and she could tell he was becoming impatient. She grinned at him and showed him the warped apple. He took it from her.

"That apple," she said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "Is beautiful."

"Is it now?" he asked. "It seems quite appropriate for you to give me an ugly apple, I suppose. A perfect parting present. Now, my dear, where is your Viscount?"

"I told you, that apple is beautiful!" she said, a mock exasperated tone in her voice. "Sure, when it wakes up in the morning, it doesn't look in the mirror with pride, but, Erik, it is so beautiful!"

Erik stared at her.

"Go on," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"But," she said pointing to the Erik apple. "If it had someone to tell it it was beautiful, that it was loved, would it feel so very sad?"

She stared at Erik expectantly, who was staring at the ugly apple with a shocked expression on his face. "Would it, Erik?"

"No," he managed, looking into her eyes. "I wouldn't."

"Then let me stay with you!"

"Why," he asked sadly. "Would you want to stay with an ugly apple like me? I cannot stand the fact of you staying down here, feeding me pathetic lies, when really I'm ugly inside out!"

Christine stared at him.

"Erik, give me your knife."

"I mostcertainly do NOT carry around a knife!"

Christine stared at him. Erik sighed and pulled out a small dagger. She took the dagger from him, then took the warped apple.

"Erik," she told him, holding up his apple. "This apple is you."

She put the apple on her desk and began to slice it open.

"Wonderful, you would like to cut me open?" Erik cried.

"I'm dissecting you."

Christine finished slicing the apple. She stared at the pieces and smiled. She turned around and showed him the two halves. They were perfect, as any apple should be.

"You, Erik," she said, watching his eyes stare at the two halves. "Are beautiful on the inside out , and that is why I love you."

Erik stared into her eyes, shock in every one of his features.

"But…but what about your Viscount?"

Christine only smiled and shook her head.

"He is beautiful on the inside out too, but he isn't you."

Christine took a small bite out of one of the halves, and gave the other to Erik.

"T-thank you…" he whispered, not daring to believe. Christine just smiled at him.

"Erik, have you ever had apple pie?"

**Wow. Okay, I know that kind of sucked. But what can I say? It's midnight, and I am tired. I realize that the ending was a total rip-off of The Bernstein Bears Talk to Strangers (That book has a good moral kiddies- don't talk to strangers!)**

**I wonder if anyone else is hungry right now.**

**Did you love it? Hate it? Have no opinion whatsoever? I don't care! Review! Review! (Please excuse me, I get weird at one o clock I the morning.)**


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